The promotion before the storm ...

[The Blank]

He was staring .. and he knows it .. but it was kind of hard -not- to stare! The damn thing was so -shiny-, and unfortunately, it has him contemplating the thought: how long before he dirtied it up? Wasn't that what he was good at? Taking beautiful, pristine things and turning them to rancid piles of cast off filth!? Ok, some would say he was being hard on himself .. but some didn't know him well enough to know that he is simply thinking the truth. Sure, Brett would look him square in the eye and tell him that it was a load of bullshit, except she'd state it far more elegantly, but the meaning would be the same. As far as she was concerned, he was -wort- something .. but, not so much. See, it was her word, which was -VERY- biased, against hundreds of others that thought he didn't amount to more than the scum on the bottom of their shoes. So, at this point, he'd be inclined to believe the other people. Human nature worked that way .. we are more apt to listen to the bad as Gospel truth, rather than believe the good. And, well, he wasn't immune to Human nature.

He runs the pad of his calloused thumb across the word Kennedy, shuddering almost violently as a chill trips down his spine. It felt as if someone had walked across his grave .. a feeling he did -not- want to experience again. His thumb continues across the shiny surface, moving from tracing his name to tracing the numbers that now identified him as far as the citizens of the city went.

He'd been a Detective when he entered Raccoon City .. he had been threatened with Special Detective, and yes, to someone of his mindset, being singled out like that was a hell of a threat. He hated the spot light, in any fashion ... and then he did the unthinkable. After coming back from the lunch that never happened with Brett, the officer that had been talking to her made the mistake of saying something stupid. An already short fuse had been cut in half and soaked in gasoline after days without sleep and a chip on his shoulder that refused to leave. He had done the only thing he knew how to do in such a piss poor situation .. he clocked the bastard. Once the Captain managed to pry them apart, and sent the other man straight to the ER to deal with a busted head, busted lip and strained shoulder, he had been -invited- into the Captain's office. He thought for sure that he was done with, that this was the end once and for all. His last fight, his last nuclear meltdown, and he was -finally- being terminated. Too bad they couldn't put him down for good.

As luck would have it, turned out that the little peon was the Captain's Nephew. Well, his wife's favored Nephew, a real pretty boy with a lot of promise. Leon had almost -felt- the last nail being driven into his coffin. He was waiting for words like 'never work again,' and 'assault charges.' So, when he was point blank told to turn in his gun and shield, he just nodded numbly, laid the firearm on the desk, and tossed the badge next to it. He was through .. finally. He had snapped the final straw and -finally- someone was going to give him what he deserved!!

... a new badge!? He watches with narrowed eyes as the Captain reaches into his desk and produces the brand new, shiny shield .. and across the top of it, the letters: S.T.A.R.S. ... he breathes deeply, a hitch in his throat as he looks down at it. He had grown up in this stupid town, and right before he left, he had heard -allllll- about S.T.A.R.S ... the most elite. What the fuck would they want with -him-!? He tries to swallow, his throat parchment dry, his cheeks like useless wads of cotton. He couldn't .. this was supposed to be the last straw, damn it!! in the movies, and all of the books he had read, it was supposed to be a quick road to an explosive self destruction!! No one was supposed to -survive- their destruction! But no matter what he does, no one seems to be doing anything to STOP HIM! What was it going to take!?

He reached out carefully to take the shield, looking up in confusion. The Captain proceeded to tell him the transfer was affective immediately .. and that he would be issued his gear when he reached the S.T.A.R.S headquarters.

Looking down at the shield, he knows that he should have tossed it back on to the desk and walked away .. finally .. but no dice. Like an idiot, he had taken the shield, agreed. He looks up at the building, feeling out of his depth .. sick to his stomach .. prepared to -pray- for this not to be happening. He glances to his left when someone knocks into him, tossing the man a nervous grin, almost blushing when the man grins back and continues into the building. Was it that obvious, then? Guess he would always stick out .. would -always- be different. With a deep breath, he steps into S.T.A.R.s and finds himself entering a hive of utter chaos.

[alucarianlord]

hive of chaos was bang on people were running around this way and that. in all the years that the S.T.A.R.S. unit had existed in raccoon city they had out paced their total call ratio by about two hundred. no one had ever put out the calls that they were seeing coming in, so no one had really any idea how to organize the troops to even answer the call volume coming in let alone getting the members in the field. it had gone from a long time of hurry up and wait to get people moving with very little warning. this was in fact the reason Chris found him self sitting at his desk watching the chaos go by.

Chris had joined S.T.A.R.S. not to long ago when his buddy Barry Burton had noticed that Chris was feeling rather depressed about his discharge from the air force. seems refusing an order to abandon an injured man can get you kicked out of the military these days. yet that's the motto of another branch of the armed forces. i guess the rangers got annoyed that he was doing there job. Barry however eventually convinced him that he didn't have to let his talent's go to waste there was still a place for him in the word, and so Chris signed up for this newly formed S.T.A.R.S. unit.

Chris hadn't been at this job for more then a year before all this started, now sitting here at this desk watching as these highly trained highly effective former solders/police officers ran around like chickens with there heads cut off, he kind of felt like kicking Barry square in his nut's for ever getting him involved in this outfit. but a job was a job and at least he could use his former skills.

noticing the man standing dumb founded at the door and maybe more then a little annoyed. he couldn't help but smile to him self. standing up he headed over to a rack with fully loaded bag's on it he grabbed one off and headed to the door shouldering his way past people he eventually came over to Leon and tossed him the duffel bag

"your Kennedy right, commander Wesker's a bit busy right now as you can tell. hell all of us are busy, nice to meet ya name's Chris. that's your gear check it out and put it on, we're pretty much all hands on deck at the moment, shit's been coming in twenty four seven for the last three days. reports of animal attacks assaults seems like the whole damn town's pretty much gone crazy. they need us in the field asap so pick a locker and suit up. oh yeah welcome to Special Tactics And Rescue Services, from what i heard about your you'll be perfect for this unit."

[The Blank]

Okay, he hated feeling like he'd been caught with his pants down the moment he walked into this place, especially since he was -usually- the type that -THRIVED- on pandemonium! He was kind of hoping that it would go unnoticed, but no luck when he sees the larger male pushing his way through the crowd of jostling bodies, the duffel bag suddenly tossed at his chest. What was said about him was true, he may be green as far as S.T.A.R.S. goes, but his reflexes were prime, despite a lot of factors that were stacked against him.

The duffel never reaches his chest, that is to say, he is not forced to -hug- it close when it's tossed at him. His hand snaps out, fingers plucking the strap of the duffel as it sails toward him, the bag twisted and pulled around so that it slides onto his shoulder rather than connects with him. He quirks a brow at the thought of the fact that they were all hands on deck, and he has to swallow down some asinine comment that would be cheeky and dumb, but might offer him a small sliver of relief in the midst of everything that was happening. Being reassigned was just the tip of the ice burg for him. He was a ticking time bomb of unstable dynamite sweating pure nitroglycerin .. being kicked repeatedly by a bored kid, waiting to see if it'll go boom. Translation: He's a little fucked up. But then, no one in S.T.A.R.s. was exactly .. normal .. or they wouldn't be there.

He glances down at the duffel where it now rests against his side, and he shrugs his shoulders absently. Not that he was really in any condition to be jumping into the thick of things or anything, but he can't help the momentary thread of thrill at the thought that everything was jumping, on alert, and on the move. It was terrible to excel when others were in danger, but the truth is what it is: He worked best under such conditions.

"Trial by fire .. kick ass."

He mutters the words with a surprising enthusiasm, before he realizes that Chris had introduced himself. He flushes slightly at the rudeness, though Chris knew his name. He reaches out to shake the man's hand, grinning slightly.

"Leon. Like it better than the last name. Excuse me."

If Chris shakes his hand or not, once the labeling of his first name is offered, he turns and heads off toward the locker room. He tosses the duffel onto the bench, and damn it all, he finds himself looking around quickly to make sure that no one else was around. Call him self conscious .. just not to his face. He suits up quickly, the slightly bulky S.T.A.R.S. gear a little unusual to him, but he was good at adapting.

Once he's changed, he reaches into the pocket of his crumpled suit jacket, pulling something out and popping it into his mouth, chewing until it's reduced to bitter dust, and then swallowing. He tosses the jacket into the locker, and sits there for a moment. Unfortunately, he barely gets a moment before he hears the alarm, a call to arms. He groans, makes sure that his side arms are secure, and then heads off, back into the main room.

"This should be .. interesting."